


Loyalty Among Thieves

by CircleUp



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/CircleUp
Summary: Steve rescues Bucky and retreats to Wakanda, only to realize that his fight to have his friend back has only just begun.





	Loyalty Among Thieves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savorvrymoment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorvrymoment/gifts).

Bucky's not what Steve expected.

He is, and he isn't. Steve knows, logically, reasonably, emotionally, that of course his friend is going to be different than who he was. But days in Wakanda go by, and even Steve has a limit to his patience. He feels horrible, he does, but he feels some days like he's waiting for a recognition that won't ever come. Bucky doesn't respond the same way to anything. Steve isn't sure what he'd expected, but this level of PTSD isn't it.

Steve is selfish and he knows that, but it feels like Bucky died all over again. This isn't the reclamation of his past that he'd thought it would be. This Bucky is a whole new person, someone Steve has to meet and befriend all over again.

The past is impossible to give up now that he'd had this slim chance to get it back. He isn't entirely sure he could drop it even if he wants to.

"It's alright, Buck," Steve says, not for the first time. He puts the picture down on the table. _Someone_ liberated a few things from the Smithsonian on the way over—Steve's going to return them, don't get your undies in a wad—in the hopes that something familiar would help jog his friend's memory. It's a photo someone took of the pair of them in camp, in their old war gear dirty and laughing. Bucky's got a cig in his mouth, lazily lipping there while too-long ash hangs precariously from the end. Steve hopes he doesn't sound as disappointed as he feels, but knows he does.

Bucky stares at the picture where it had fallen. He hadn't laughed.

The problem isn't Bucky's memory.

"That was right before they ran out of coffee," Bucky says in a too-even tone. He's looking down at the photograph without interest.

Steve perks up. They've been through this before. The hope never truly dies. "Almost caused a riot."

"You didn't like that coffee," Bucky points out. "No one did."

"Watered down piss," Steve remembers with a laugh, but it's a laugh Bucky doesn't share. His smile fades a little. Bucky's expression hasn't changed a bit, severe and empty. He's washed his hair and he looks better in clean clothes. Steve's done his best to get rid of the Soldier, in appearances at least. He'd look normal to Steve, except for the missing arm, if it wasn't for that expression. That lack of expression.

Steve says gently, "Eat," of the soup in front of him. Bucky hadn't been fed properly in decades, apparently. There's a lot that has horrified Steve in the bits and pieces he's finding out about what, specifically, his friend went through that Natasha is sending back to him on her discovery quest, but this one's one of the worst somehow. They fed him nutritional shakes and intravenous stimulants. There was never a reason to give him real food, and it had the benefit of giving his handlers another level of control over him. They needed all they could get.

At Steve's command, Bucky obediently picks up the spoon and feeds himself. The Wakandan doctors have a whole reintroduction plan for food for him, step-by-step. He's progressed from broth to soup with bits of overcooked vegetables.

Steve doesn't realize how much enjoyment a normal person has when they eat until he watches Bucky eat without it.

When the spoon scraps the bottom of the bowl, Steve collects the dishes. The hospital room is soft and blue, very unlike any hospital room Steve has seen in America. Its focus is on kindness, not sterility. Bucky can't stay here forever.

Neither can Steve.

"I'm gonna have to leave soon," he warns. Bucky flicks his eyes up to meet Steve's. "Wakanda. Our welcome is… not quite worn out," Steve admits, "but I don't want to risk it."

They need things from them. It's a fact. They need Wakanda, but Wakanda doesn't need them. Steve won't do anything to push that.

"Will you be alright here?" Steve wants to know, using that gentle tone he's started taking with Bucky when he's talking about his mental health.

"The health care here is superior to that of any other nation," Bucky informs him, which isn't at all what Steve meant but he doesn't try to get more out of him.

"I'll be back in a week," Steve says. "No big decisions until then, right?"

They've been given the option to put Bucky back into cryo. Steve doesn't like it, but it seems like it may be the only way to remove the programming.

Steve just wants Bucky back.

"I'll wait," Bucky agrees, as if this isn't a life-changing decision, as if its importance is no greater than what soup he'd wanted for lunch.

Steve's with Bucky until the end of the line. He isn't going to abandon him, even if he doesn't ever come back, even if this is as much of Bucky as Steve will ever get to have.

He picks up the photograph on his way out.

He isn't giving it back to the Smithsonian.

* * *

Bucky insists he's the one who stole their first kiss, but it's really Stevie who kisses him, quick and soft on their worn-out couch in the middle of a rainstorm, more of a peck than anything, and completely out of the blue.

"You must really be bored," Bucky drawls, an arm slung over the couch back.

"You're projecting," Stevie responds, his eyes back on his sketchpad and seeming unbothered with the kiss's lackluster reception, though Bucky notes the tension in his slim shoulders that wasn't there before.

It's true, he's probably projecting. He's bored. It's been raining damn near four days now and besides work, there's nothing else to do. The power's flickered on and off a few times, and Stevie's settled in with a blanket and a cup of tea, so Bucky came to join him and watch the pencil add lines to the page.

It's mind-numbing. Bucky's always impressed by the end product, but watching it progress is as much fun as watching paint dry. He's never understood how Stevie had the patience for this. Bucky's tried his own hand at drawing a few times, even got Stevie to give him a couple of lessons on a different rainy day, but his enthusiasm for it died off about five minutes in.

Stevie's sketching Bucky right now, sitting on the couch exactly like he's doing in real life, the lines of his body careless and loose and his legs and arms sprawled, with a smirk that says he owns the world. Bucky likes how Stevie draws him.

"Put that down then and try again," Bucky says, as casual as his picture is, like he couldn't care either way if he got another kiss or not. "Unless you wanna try drawin' me in the buff next." His eyes light at the idea. "Have you? You got any inappro—mmph!"

For a shrimp, Stevie moves fast. It's unnatural, and Bucky would complain about it except he's got Stevie's tongue damn near down his throat, hands on either side of his head, a whole lapful of Stevie straddling him. Bucky forgets about complaining. Stevie's fingers tug at his short hair, and it's pretty clear he thinks he's going to be the one doing the work in the bedroom.

It makes Bucky laugh. He knows he shouldn't, but he does, and Stevie breaks the kiss to make that kitten-scowl at him. "What?"

"Where'd you learn t' kiss like that?" is what Bucky says instead. He's grinning huge and bright and after a little bit, Stevie's scowl disappears and he laughs a little laugh too. They both grin like idiots at each other.

"Fellas shouldn't kiss and tell," Stevie tells him, and Bucky puts a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in to press their foreheads together. He's practically glowing. They've been doing this dance around each other for so long that he was starting to think he was making it up, that Stevie didn't make eyes at him sometimes, and didn't look too long when he came out of the shower, and didn't light up something extra whenever he came into the room.

It's real though. He's pretty sure. "I love ya, Stevie," Bucky says, which is a lot more important than a kiss, a lot more important than anything they're about to go do in their tiny bedroom when they push together their two beds.

"I know, Buck," Stevie says, rolling his eyes. "You wanna kiss again, or are we gonna sit and talk like a couple of dames?"

Bucky's still grinning when he lifts him up off the couch. On the way to the bedroom, he kisses him again.

* * *

Bucky's in cryo a week later, when Steve returns. He'd sent Tony a box with a phone in it and a sincere apology. It's the most he can do there, the best he can do, because he's pretty sure Tony will have him shot on sight if he shows up at the tower. Steve can take a repulsor to the face, but he'd prefer not to.

He presses a hand to the glass. He can see Bucky's face through it, frozen and still.

Steve's with Bucky to the end of the line. He meant that, and means it still. Nothing will change that at all.

It's the bed he made.

**Author's Note:**

> Gift-prompt for Savor of the Erotica Abyss.


End file.
